Fallen Angels of a Darker Time
by MistressB
Summary: Not sure how great it is, basically, a chick assassin slash theif is sent back in time. New chapter is up. read and review!
1. Prologue : The Beginning

The Beginning

There was only darkness in front of her. Darkness so pure, she couldn't see her hand in front of her face. It was cold, and the smell of decomposing bodies filled the air around her. She was in a small box-type area, enclosed. Anywhere she reached, her hand soon met with the cold, slime-covered stone wall. She was lying on her side, and had no room to change position. A cell, a prison. She heard footsteps and yelling, and then metal striking metal, and she was suddenly blinded as the door to her cell fell open. A silhouette filled her vision, sharply contrasting the white light that blinded her. Distantly, she heard a voice, a voice that said "Soon, Wynne.. Soon you will realize your Destiny…"

5:00am

Wynne woke from her sleep in a cold sweat. She looked at the room around her, and slowly she calmed down. She pushed back the red quilt and stepped onto the lush off-white carpet of her bedroom rubbing her freezing face with an overly warm hand. She walked out into the hall, pulling on a red 'Spitfire' hoodie and muttering to herself "Just a dream.. Just a dream" as if it was a mantra. Walking past the kitchen, she saw a pale light out of the corner of her eye and ducked into the shadows, peering carefully into the small room.

There was a tall, well built man, appearing to be about 40 years old, who had a declining head of thin, mousy brown hair. His shifty eyes were peering around the room, and the flashlight he held had only a small beam of light, but a strong enough one to make Wynne realize stealth wouldn't help in this situation. She quietly slipped back, further in to the shadows, and along the wall into the living room, where she picked up a small object, and tucked it into her hoodie pocket, which she tucked her hands into as she stepped silently into the entrance to the kitchen. The man had his back to her, so she stepped further into the room and crossed into some shadows behind the refrigerator.

The man sat slowly down in a chair, and pulled out an extravagant black dagger, long and thin with rubies placed along the hilt, offset with emerald and diamonds. He scratched something into the tabletop, placed the dagger reluctantly on the table and stood, stretching out his arms and yawning. Wynne's eyes were drawn to a small tattoo on the mans wrist, a small stag, cave painting style. It was a dark brown outlined in black, and placed on the side of his wrist, head pointed to the thumb joint. Wynne's eyes narrowed at the insignia, one that Wynne had tried hard to forget. "Harte," she whispered, rubbing her wrist where she had recently had a similar tattoo removed, closing her eyes against the memories of her days in 'service' of the Stronghold, a large empire of other thieves and assassins, like Wynne, headed by a money-hungry man named Harte.

Wynne slowly pulled out the object, and twirled it in her fingers. A small gold medallion, engraved with a lion's head, threaded onto a long gold chain. She pressed a small indentation, neatly hidden on the medallion's face and a small blade came out a slight crack in the side. Thin enough to slide into a lock, and well kept enough to go back into the medallion in the matter of a second in case she was caught. The lion's head had small red rubies in the eyes, symbols of her elite rank in the guild.

She stepped out of the shadows after pulling the medallion over her head, and, pushing the indent so the blade silently slid back into its sheath, watched as the man jumped. She sneered at the intruder, crossing her arms in a symbol of defiance, and to give easy access to her only weapon, the medallion. "So this is what Harte is training now? His expectations are going down," she said coldly, watching the expression of rage etching over his face. 'Not very good at hiding emotions either' she noted with curiosity. "What do you want. I know you aren't here on a neighborly visit, so spit it out." she said, walking over to the fridge and pulling it open, watching the man out of the corner of her eye while appearing to search for something in the fridge. Pulling out a jug of juice, which she took a drink from before grabbing a cup out of the cupboard and pouring the juice into, she continued to study the man out of the corner of her eye.

The man seemed putout by her apparent disregard of him. He sank back into the chair, and picked up the dagger. "My name is Byron, and I am here on behalf of Harte. He wishes for you to help him with an… Assignment. I assure you, you will be paid generously for your efforts." he said, cleaning his nails with the dagger. Wynne snorted, and put the jug of juice back into the fridge, before crossing to the other wall to flick the light switch.

She walked back to the table and stood behind the other chair before she answered. "My work for Harte is over, paid or not. When he decided money was more important than the security of the Stronghold, I quit, and I will not dig myself another grave by working there again. The Stronghold is part of my past, a past I long to forget ever existed." she shook her head, and walked back to the fridge, leaned against it and reached up and ruffled her shoulder-cut dyed-black hair. "You can tell Harte he can keep his money and go to hell. He can get another to do his dirty work, I'm done with the whole business." she lied, hoping that this man hadn't done his homework.

He had. He put down the dagger and looked up at her. He looked at her slyly, crossing his arms and stretching out in the chair before calling her bluff. "Whatever you say, _Lorelei_." he said, emphasizing her alias, used to hide her real identity. She frowned at the man and clenched her teeth. He smirked, and sat up a bit. "Now, if you value you're little _deception_ then you will listen to my employer's offer. You get one thing, and he will destroy any proof we currently have of you're, how can I say it… Activities?" The man blackmailed like a pro, showing Wynne just why he had been sent to _convince_ her to help in the mission. Wynne sank into the chair, and crossed her arms on the table, laying her head on them.

Wynne could do one of three things. She could accept Harte's offer and most likely end up trapped in the Stronghold, doing the 'one more mission and I'm done' routine to convince herself she was still free, she could refuse, end up a likely enemy of one of the most powerful men in the country, or she could accept, complete it, and run to escape Harte's hold over people. Wynne bowed her head, weighing the options over in her mind. Then she grinned when a thought popped into her head. "I can't." At the man, Byron's, puzzled glance, she grinned. "I belong to the Annerire il Leone. If you really have as much information on me you'd know that." she said. She was just standing up again, when Byron started to laugh. He shook his head with a smirk on his face and stood up and moved in front of her.

"I'm sure your employers won't mind if we just, borrowed, you for a bit." he said, and started for the door, then turned around and started walking backwards. "I'll be seeing you again, Wynne. Be ready." he warned, then turned back and left Wynne's apartment. Wynne walked to a drawer on the other side of the kitchen and picked out her sai, short three pronged, oriental fighting blades and walked back to the kitchen table to read the message Byron had scratched into it.

In the middle of the table, Byron had scratched the insignia of the Stronghold, and underneath it, he put 'Corner of 100th and Towne, Wednesday, 8:00am. Fast Strider is on the line.' Wynne's eyes scanned the short message and screamed. She grabbed the edge of the table and pushed it onto its side, the dagger clattering to the floor and sliding over to her feet.

Wynne bent to pick up the ornamental dagger, placing her sai at her feet as she stood up with the curved blade in her hands. The blade itself was curved like a snake, and carved into the black metal were the words 'Ater Atra Atrum Animi Causa.' Wynne recognized the Latin words as an in depth version of saying 'Black Will', the name of the blade. The hilt itself curved up an inch as if to protect the blade, and was covered in precious gems. The hilt itself was carved into the head of a snake, eyes black opals, and head raised as if to strike. Wynne recognized it as the man 'Fast Strider', or Ryker's blade.

Wynne looked at the calendar, and notice that today was Wednesday, and, after looking at the clock, she discovered that she had approximately 3 hours to get ready for her meeting. Wynne threw the blade away from her. I flew to the other side of the room, where it stuck into the green wall there. Wynne went to survey the damage and shook her head. 'This is just perfect.' she thought before going to have a long, cold shower.

7:55am

At the corner of 100th and Towne Street, Wynne sat waiting for whoever was coming. After her shower, she had gotten dressed in a pair of black jeans and a dark green tank over a black tee. A pair of hiking boots and a dark jean jacket had finished the ensemble. She sat in a small outdoor café, sipping an English toffee cappuccino and reading a book she had picked up from the local library. She impatiently looked at her watch and then picked up her book again, 'Ancient Oriental Fighting Forms and Weaponry'

(1st Person)

I was reading an interesting article about the naginata, when a shadow fell over my table. I looked up to see none other then the devil himself. Wearing a black leather jacket, with a dark green shirt under, a pair of dark blue jeans, and sunglasses almost being covered by his straight black hair, he looked nothing like the leader of a crime empire. Behind his sunglasses, I could almost see his dark blue eyes traveling around the café, checking for surveillance and rival assassins. As if satisfied there was nothing, he placed his sunglasses on the top of his head, showing me his eyes, fringed by the eyelashes that seemed to belong to a female, they were so long. "Harte." I say shortly, placing my book on the table and nodding my head towards the seat he had already started sitting in. Imperious bastard… He ordered a French vanilla flavored coffee, and picked up the book I'd been reading.

"Interesting choice." he said shortly, making a small face at the small writing. "I had thought you were near an expert on anything oriental or otherwise when it comes to fighting." he continued on, tossing the book back to me and looking around for his drink. I catch the book and roll my eyes, then make a face at his turned head, and look down at my book again.

"That's the difference between you and me Harte. I know that I still could learn more-" I paused there and waited for him to stop gawking at the waitress who brought his coffee. Sick bugger… She couldn't be much older then 16. After he turned back to me, I continued on. "You, on the other hand, think you know everything."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong." I raise an eyebrow and sit back in my chair a bit, and he smirks, his dark eyelashes covering his eyes so I couldn't tell what he was talking about. "I don't think I know everything. I know I do." I roll my eyes and he smirks again. Anyways, he starts to blabber on about the Arthurian legends, about King Arthur and his knights, and how he wants a relic that is somehow distantly related to the legends. He slides a small file across the table to me, which I skim over and set on the table. Apparently it is of some worth, couple mill at least. However, it is 'extremely well guarded' and he needed a 'professional again.'

As he is talking on about the assignment, I interrupt him. "What does any of this have to do with Ryker?" I asked. He shrugged and smiled, leaning back and putting his feet up on the table like the barbarian he really is. I knew how much it must of annoyed him to have me interrupt him, but I really didn't care. I needed to know about Ryker.

"If you do this for me, I will, release Ryker from his contract to me. Although it will be such a shame to lose such a good thief… Ah, well. You win some, you lose some, hey, baby?" he said smugly. I glared at the nickname he called me, and he raised his eyebrows in an overly innocent look. He smiled again, and leaned forward again. "You do this for me, and you get Ryker and we will not bother you again." He repeated, using a collective 'we' to encompass all of Stronghold. Good. My hands were clenching and unclenching under the table, but my face was calm and collected. I hope. He sat waiting for my answer, but I completely ignored him, going over the details of the mission in my head.

'A small mansion, about ten or so guards at one time. 'Get in, get out' is not my forte, so I'm gonna need my weapons. My sai, maybe some twin samurai or katana swords, or maybe a bearded axe, haven't used one of those in a while… so, go in, kill some guards, get the relic, kill some more guards, get out. Sounds fairly straightforward, right? Wrong. Gotta find the best time to go in, like shift change, when the halls are empty. I need to scout out the place, find an unguarded door and find out how often it is used and when it is locked. Need to get a layout plan of the mansion. Oh, yeah, this is gonna take some planning. I really don't wanna kill people; I want to be invisible, at least for this mission. I really don't want the Annerire il Leone to find out about my skills being used by someone else if I can help it. '

I look over at Harte again, who is by now looking completely impatient, and ask one more question, stuffing the file into my nap sack. "How long do I have to get this done?" he smiles and tilts his head back, and pulls a small pocket book out of his jacket. He looks over a small calendar and starts mumbling to himself.

Harte looks back up at me a says, "You have about 3 weeks before I absolutely need this. I would rather it before then, but that is the absolute latest." I look down at my hands in my lap, pull a sai out of my nap sack, and then hold it up slightly so only me and my 'companion' could see it, watching Harte eye the weapon.

"This had be the absolute last time any of your cronies approach me, Harte, or this is going to be sheathed in your throat." He nods and holds out his hand. I look at it as if it was diseased, and as I stand up, I can't resist adding "Nice doing business with you, _babe_." I quirk my eyebrows and turn around, hoisting my bag onto my shoulder and holding the book at my side. I walk slowly out of the café, and down the street, waiting until I turn the street to let out the breath I didn't even realize I had been holding since leaving the entrance to the small coffee shop. For some reason, I had been anticipating a knife in the back as I walked along the street, as if Harte could kill me just by looking at me.

I slump up against the wall to the right of me, and I realize my hands are shaking. I had never thought seeing Harte again would be this hard, but then again, I thought I would never need to see him again. I had thought I was over it all, but obviously I'm not. I start again for the small loft I call home, to have another long, cold shower, to start me off on the planning of this job.

9:28 PM

Two weeks later, Wynne was waiting outside the small mansion for the shift change. She had planned this out to the very last detail, even going so far as to come to the mansion and view the relic on one of the owners, Jonathon Talmund, many tours of his extensive collection. The relic was actually very simple looking, a small silver amulet, but placed in the silver were almost invisible diamonds, hundreds at least, making the amulet seem to glow under the right light. It had an obscure carving on the back, however Wynne hadn't been able to get close enough to make out what it said. The guards, although brutal, strong, and vicious, were dense, and every night at 9:30 they no longer patrolled one of the easiest paths to the vault, until 11:00 when they sent one more person to the vault, to double check, and then were at the other end of the mansion all night. Wynne had charmed Talmund into showing her how the security systems worked, and was sure she could bypass the lasers and motion detectors easily enough, but the heat-alarm was trickier, until she discovered that she could hack into the system easily enough. She had a small fake version of the amulet tucked into a pocket, ready to be switched with the real one.

Her plan was quite simple, in her standards. Part one, get in. Part two, make it successfully to the first set of lasers and bypass them. Part three; make it to the entrance to the vault, where there is another room that was filled with lasers and motion detectors. Part four, get past that room. Part five, get to the computer that controls the heat-alarm and the other systems around the relic itself, and shut down all systems. Part six, get the hell out.

Wynne's small timer went off in her ear, and she picked up her twin katanas and slid them swiftly in to her sheaths on her back, the sais following into their holders at her waist. She walked to the side door she had found was always kept unlocked and unguarded, in case one of Talmund's mistresses wants in or out during the night. She pressed her ear to the door, and, not hearing any voices, she slowly opened the heavy door. She looked into the dark hallway, making sure her way was clear, and walked into the mansion. 'Part one, done. I'm in' she thought to herself, starting down the hall, sticking close to the wall, where it was darkest. She skirted the main halls, and slowly made it to the first set of lasers. She crouched down and shone a small infrared flashlight along the hall, smiling when the lasers glowed a bright red under the beam. The first was around ankle high, and Wynne easily stepped over it. The next part was trickier, as there was one at knee height and another around chest height. Wynne bent over so she was at a ninety degree angle, and stepped over the lower laser, one foot at a time, making sure her legs were high enough and her body low enough as to not trip any one the beams. When she got through, she stood and cracked her neck, the started on the next laser bunch. There was a bunch of 9, and were all pointed on an angle, but all the same way so there was a clear area for her to crouch through. She made it through easily and, shining the flashlight through the entire hall, she scanned for more lasers. After making sure the rest of the way was clear, she stuck the flashlight onto her suit so it would continue to show if there were any lasers she had missed on her earlier run.

The outfit was a black synthetic nylon suit, specially made so it was almost like a second skin so it wouldn't get in her way on stealthy assignments, with a black scarf she tied around her face so no one would recognize her. It helped her fit into her Lorelei Sirene persona, the Temptress. Her and Ryker used to be an infamous duo, untraceable, the Temptress and Fast Strider, before he went to the Stronghold and left Annerire il Leone. Wynne had developed Lorelei so no one could come to her personally for jobs, and she made sure only a select few of her solo employers had seen her face. Only those in Annerire il Leone knew what she actually looked like, and her actual name, and only a few in the Stronghold knew her alias, so most thought she had 'retired' from the business. Her suit had been made at the labs in the Annerire il Leone, and was one of a pair she'd had made, one black, and one a dark blood red.

'Part two, done.' she thought, smiling to herself and starting towards the entrance to the vault. She walked through the halls, her knee high black boots making a light clicking on the stone floor. Her gray eyes swept the area through the holes in her mask, her ears tuned for the slightest sound other then the rhythmic clicking of her boots that could warn her of a guard. She made it slowly through the labyrinth of halls that she had memorized on her many visits, and slowed down when she saw the door that marked the entrance to the vault. She walked into the room, and walking up to the keypad that triggered the security systems, she pulled out a small piece of paper. On it were six numbers, the code to turn off the systems in the small room. She smiled as she remembered the day she had watched the guard type it in right in front of her. She typed in the sequence, 11, 22, 90, 13, 1, 95, and watched as a small light turned green. Shining the small flashlight through the room, she saw the lasers gone, so she started to the small door on the other side.

She pulled out a lock pick, and after hearing the slight click to signal it was unlocked, she opened the door and walked into the vault. She scanned the vault, a large room filled with jewels and artifacts. There in the middle of the room sat the small stand that the amulet was sitting on. A bright light shone down on it, causing the diamonds to reflect the light. She walked to the security console and turned it on. She plugged in a small device to figure out the password, and after a few seconds, the word 'impenetrable' flashed on the screen. Wynne laughed quietly at the password as she entered the password into the console, and selected 'shut down' on the security commands. She walked slowly over to the stand the amulet was put on, stopping just in front of it. "This is for you, Ryker," she said quietly, imagining his expressive emerald green eyes before reaching out and taking the amulet. It was about the size of her palm, and Wynne tucked it securely into a small pocket inside her suit and placed the fake onto the stand. She checked the timer, and swore when she saw it was almost 11:00. She stuck her head out side the door, and listened. "God damn it" she said when she heard the footsteps coming down the hall. She saw a small keypad on the vault side of the small room, so she reactivated the systems, and turned back into the vault. She walked back to the console, activated the security systems, locked the door again and unplugged her device. She looked around for an alternative way out, and her eyes rested on the air vent. She swung up into one, and just as she replaced the panel, she heard the vault door open again.

Wynne heard the man walk over to the computer, and when see the security systems show no signs of an intruder, he scanned the room. Wynne heard the man grunt and then leave the vault, the lock clicking shut again. Wynne let out the breath she had been holding and started crawling out the vent. She followed the vents to a room on her way out the mansion, and after scanning the room, she dropped silently to the floor. She went to the door and pressed her ear to it, listening for footsteps. She heard the guard's heavy tread and waited until he passed before opening the door. She watched him turn the corner before she left the room, and started for the side door she had entered through. She made it to the door fifteen minutes later with no more hitches. She left the mansion, and after checking to make sure the amulet was still tucked securely in her pocket, she started home.

11:00 am.

The next morning, Wynne jerked her head off the kitchen table where she had fallen asleep the night before, the dream of a tall brown haired man echoing in her mind, the file containing the information for the mission open in front of her. She had entered her loft and after pulling the suit off of her, she had sat at the table, mentally going over her agenda for the next week. Harte had pulled a fast one on her, and had decided to make the drop off for the amulet in a small town in Britain instead of in New York like usual. Wynne pulled the file that lay on the table closer to her, and looked over the drop off information, muttering it out loud to herself. "When the object has been obtained, report to the Red Dress Tavern in Newcastle-on-Tyne for further instructions on the whereabouts of the drop-off. Proceed to the drop-off where the agreed upon payment will be waiting in exchange for the foresaid object." Wynne snorted, pushed the chair back and stood up, walking over to her suit.

There, in the inner pocket where she had placed the amulet the night before, she pulled out the small artifact that had become so interesting to Harte. She rubbed her thumb over the diamond studded front and felt with her palm the thin lines scrawled on the back. She walked back to the table and sat in the chair she had just vacated, and turned the amulet over in her hand. She followed the lines with her index finger, tracing the spidery word etched into the golden metal. "Past Becomes Present" she read out, wondering what the three words would mean. Wynne shook her head and placed the amulet onto the table and stood, making her way to the living room down the hall from the kitchen.

It was painted a dark red, and the off-white carpet that covered her bedroom floor had been put in here too. The furniture was black leather, bought with the money from her various jobs over the years, and there was a fireplace cut into the wall opposite the entrance to the room. A glass table sitting in the circle made by the various sofas was covered in papers pertaining to the job, and her medallion. She went and picked it up and slipped it over her head. She sat on the couch and picked up the cordless that lie on the arm and dialed quickly. An official sounding woman came onto the line, announcing in her clear voice "Hello, Lion's Den, how could I help you?" Wynne smiled at the name of the hotel that was the Annerire Le Leone's cover.

She quickly answered in her quiet voice she used around the Annerire. "I need to talk to Mr. Rikard. It's important. Tell him one of his daughters requires his assistance." she finished, and waited impatiently as the secretary connected the two. Jonathon Rikard, or the Father, created the Annerire Le Leone, or the Black Lion, and still dealt out the jobs and the tickets and money that were needed. A steady flow of tickets to anywhere were delivered to the man, and everyone knew that if they needed a ticket on short notice with no questions asked, he would handle it. The English man's voice came on over the phone and Wynne immediately relaxed.

"Hello, may I ask who this is?" he said, sounding faintly bored, but his voice picked up when she told him it was Lorelei. "Ahh, my dear, what is it you need assistance with?" he said kindly. He stayed silent over the 5 minutes it took for Wynne to explain that she needed a ticket to Newcastle-on-Tyne, and give him a general reason why, and then he had one question that knocked Wynne off her guard. He had stayed quiet and there was a long silence, when all of a sudden, he asked her "Do you believe in magic?"

Wynne had been shocked for a second, and then shook her head. "No I don't. If magic was real, wouldn't there be proof?" she asked, cocking her head to the side to hold up the phone against her shoulder. The old man laughed. "My dear, there is proof. There's the Salem Witch Trials, there's all the sightings of ghosts and aliens, and there is all the stories of witches and wizards. Fiction people say. Possibilities I say." he paused there. "Wynne, I do hope you know that that was an artifact believed to be owned by Merlin himself before people started to think that it was all stories, legends." Wynne started at the sound of her real name, and then frowned at what the old man was saying. "Wynne, Merlin was real. He may not have been a wizard, as they say in the stories, but he was real. He knew rituals and had some type of mystical powers, I'm sure." he paused again, as if debating whether to continue. "Just be careful, daughter. And think about the inscription before you do anything…. Rash." He then told Wynne to go to the Den and she would find the tickets in her mailbox there.

Wynne hung up the phone and puzzled over what Jonathon had said. He had seemed to be trying to tell her something that he couldn't put into words. Wynne got off the couch and walked to her bedroom, where she packed a few pairs of jeans and a couple of shirts, a sweater, and her blood red suit into a backpack. She also added some of her make up and a pair of black converse's from the adjoining white bathroom. Wynne quickly checked her reflection in the mirror over the sink, flipping out her black hair, before she walked back into the kitchen and grabbed the file, the amulet, and her sais, stuffing them into the backpack, her other weapons already in her vehicle with another backpack. She walked over to the fridge and grabbed a couple of cokes, and opening one of the bottles and taking a drink, she walked out the door, flicking the switch as the door shut behind her.

Next stop, the Lion's Den Hotel.

12:30pm

Wynne walked into the lobby of the 5-story building, pulling off her black sunglasses as she surveyed the area. The rich red carpet in the building was looking a little muddy, and the brown wooden walls shone under the bright lights on the ceiling. She made her way through the throng of people who were entering and exiting the building, and walked through a small swinging door that led to a mailroom. The whole wall opposite wall was shelving going 7 up and 11 across. She made her way to the shelves and reached up to the 6th one up and the 10th across, and pulled out a small envelope addressed to Lorelei. She opened the seal and pulled out a round ticket to Newcastle-on-Tyne. The plane took off for the 10 hour flight around 4 that night, and Wynne had to get to the airport right away. Wynne left the room, and raised a hand to an old man coming down the stairs, his dark suit contrasting against his gray hair. He winked at her and Wynne grinned, shaking her head at Jonathan's "flirtatious" gesture. She walked back into the rain outside, and shivered before she pulled her black jacket tighter around her.

She walked quickly to the car that stood parked across the street. Dodging the cars that sped along the wet pavement, Wynne made it to Ryker's black SUV, silver flames painted onto the sides. She walked around the front of the vehicle, pulling the keys out of the pocket of her jacket, and opening the door to the vehicle. She pulled out into the traffic and, taking a drink from the coke bottle in the cup holder, she started on her way to the airport.

Halfway there, as she stood waiting for a light to change, she pulled a small packet out of the side of the door. She reached into the door, and pulled out a handful of money, which she threw onto the passenger seat. She reached back into the packet and pulled out a wrinkled photo of Ryker and her. He was a tall man; his strong arm was draped loosely over her shoulder. His green eyes were crossed, his tongue out, and a lock of his messy dark reddish-brown hair was falling over his forehead and in front of one of his eyes. She was laughing, her head thrown back as she watched him, her long, at the time dark honey blonde, hair draping down her back. Wynne shook her head and laughed quietly at the photo then threw that to the passenger seat as well. She reached back into the packet and pulled out the last item, a small gold locket with an inset diamond-and-ruby group, and her name engraved on the back, that she slipped over her head. She tucked the necklace into her shirt and, flipping her hair out from under the collar of her jacket, she pressed the accelerator as the light switched to green, and the crowd of cars moved forward.

5:00am

Wynne stepped out of the airport in Newcastle-On-Tyne that morning and yawned and stretched as she hailed a taxi cab at the curb. The driver turned and looked at her when she slid into the cab, his bright red hair standing out against the black outside the windshield. "where to, lady?" he asked, his thick accent sounding pleasant to Wynne's ears. Wynne quickly looked down at the notebook where she had wrote down the name of the bar on the flight to England.

"The Red Dress Tavern, please" she answered, pulling her cap further over her eyes and leaning back against the foul smelling seat. She yawned again and felt the vehicle lurch underneath her as the car pulled away from the curb and onto the crowded street. The streets were crowded and the fog that lay thickly over the town seemed to choke any happiness out of Wynne. She shivered slightly and pulled her jacket closer, hugging her backpack closer to her chest.

The buildings loomed over the small street and alleyways were completely black. Wynne sat in the car until it pulled in front of a shabby looking bar with a unintelligible sign hanging over the door. The cabbie turned around then, and held out his hand. "Your stop miss. That'll be 9.50 please." Wynne handed the man the required amount and stepped out of the vehicle, and, pulling out her two backpacks and her suitcase filled with her weapons, she walked up to the entrance to the tavern.

The inside of the bar was just as bad as the outside. Lit only by a couple of dusty red lights over the barkeep, a fat bald man holding a dirty rag and wiping a mug, the whole tavern appeared to be a hazy room, the smoke choking the air around her. On a small stage there was a young woman with a long red dress singing a slow song and collecting money for the owner from the men who sat staring up at her. Wynne walked over to the bar and asked for a room. The man looked at Wynne and grunted. "There's one room." he told her the amount and Wynne gave him the coins and started up the steep wooden stairs to the second floor, where she found her room in a dark hallway, full of dirt and cobwebs.

A small room, with only a bed, a night table, and a small fireplace in one corner. Wynne grimaced at the spider webs in the corner and moved over to sit carefully on the rickety bed after putting her luggage on the floor. She lay back slowly, wincing as the bed squeaked under her shifting weight. She closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.

9:14pm

Wynne awoke that night and jerked upright as she saw the room she was in. Then, as the memories of the night came back to her, she relaxed again and stood up, stretching the kinks out of her back. She yawned widely and walked over to her luggage, where she squatted down and opened her suitcase. After checking all her weapons were there and unharmed, she locked the suitcase again, and then opened one of her backpacks. She searched through the contents and pulled on a pair of dark blue jeans and a red tank top, and her red 'spitfire' sweater. She picked up her notebook from the backpack, and flipped to the last page. She looked over the information, and at the name she had circled in red ink, Garland Roberts. She stood up slowly, pocketed her sais from the bag, and walked out into the hall, turning toward the common room and wishing she had a picture of the man she was supposed to meet, her notebook tucked under her arm.

The barkeep looked up at her as she approached, narrowing his brown eyes slightly. He waited for a second as Wynne counted in her head, before shifting and letting out a deep breathe. "What d'you want, miss? I don't have all day y'know." he said as she made herself hesitate. She lowered her eyes and looked up at him shyly.

"I'm sorry, sir. It's just that, I have an uncle here, Garland Roberts? And he told me he'd be waiting, but I've never met him before. And I'm just wondering if you'd be so kind as to point him out to me." she asked sweetly, her voice quiet and seemingly belonging to a much younger girl, looking at the floor. The man looked at her suspiciously, putting down the mug he had been continuously wiping.

"I didn't think Garland had any siblings." he said shortly, crossing his arms across his chest. Wynne shrugged, blushing lightly under the bald mans stare.

"He isn't actually an uncle. He is a close friend of my fathers, and I always heard him called uncle Garland, that's all." she said quickly. 'God, I knew I should have checked him out…'she thought as she squirmed uncomfortably as the man thought it over. He slowly nodded and Wynne let out a deep breath and walked to a table where she sat to wait for the Mr. Roberts to arrive, writing in her notebook the days expenses on a page. When she was done that, she wrote a page on the events of the trip so far, and laid her pen on the book when she finished, sitting back to watch the performing girl in the red dress.

Half an hour later, after a large group of people walked in, talking and laughing, Wynne looked up at the barkeep. He looked over at a tall brown haired man and nodded his head, then returned to wiping the counter with the dirty rag. Wynne walked across the rapidly filling room, and stood beside the table of men, and coughed to get their attention.

The five men looked up with questioning glances at each other. Wynne looked at the brown haired man. "Garland Roberts?" she questioned. At his nod she continued "I believe you have some information for me." she said, and motioned to the back door. "I think it would be better to talk about this in private she continued. His eyes narrowed, and he nodded, looking at his friends.

In the alleyway, Wynne turned to face the man, pulling out her sais and, pushing him against the wall, placing the points at his throat. "Where is the meeting place." she asked, her gray eyes losing all warmth, turning a cold, steel color. Garland gulped, his Adam's apple scraping against the tip of her weapon. His eyes, wide, searched hers, and then shut tightly.

"Where are the safest things in the world?" He asked. Wynne rolled her eyes, exasperated at the "code" that had been developed to show allegiance to the Stronghold. She searched her memory for the code, written across the bottom of her notepad, and then cocked her head.

"Where else but in the bottom of the bees nest?" She said mockingly, grinning at the frown across the mans brow. He nodded and Wynne removed her Sai from his collar, keeping it held tightly in her hand. She stepped back, spreading her legs slightly, unconsciously shifting into battle mode. She narrowed her eyes, and lowered her head, and waited for Garland to either talk or try to attack or run.

Garland stepped away from the wall, and smoothed out his plaid shirt. He shook his head, as if nothing had happened, and reached into his back pocket. Wynne readied herself, and relaxed only a little when he pulled out only a paper and pencil. She had heard of worse things, but anything can become a weapon. She had even heard of a "death by teacup" technique being taught to modern assassins. She watched him warily, her mouth set in a grim line, and gripped her sais, holding them in front of her for him to see.

Garland glanced at her, eyes still wide, and began to write on the paper before Wynne stopped him. "Uh uh. I don't want to have anyone know where this meeting is. You'll tell it to me, and I'll remember." she said, crumpling up the paper and throwing it over her shoulder. He frowned at her cautiousness, but nodded. Wynne stepped back, raising her head and looking at Garland over her nose. He glared slightly, but she just smirked at him.

Garland looked around, checking for any silent observers. Seeing none, He looked back to Wynne. "At the east edge of the forest, there is a small path. Follow this path, and you will come to a clearing. There is the meeting. Got it?" he asked. Wynne nodded, and gestured for Garland to enter the tavern. After watching him sit down, she went upstairs to her room. There, she changed into her blood red suit, and hooked her sheaths for her twin katanas onto her back, and her "utility belt" ,as Jonathon so fondly referred to it, around her waist. She slid her sais into the belt, and checked their security. She walked to the window, pulling on a red scarf, twin to the black one tucked into her belt, along with her second suit. The thing she loved about the suits, was they were light weight, and folded up to about the size of a small handkerchief, making for easy transportation. She had stuck the amulet into her belt too, sitting beside her folded suit. She checked it quickly, and, finishing tying her scarf, she stood on the ledge to her window. Checking for observers, she saw only a drunk, staggering across the street, so she dropped to the ground, her boots making a loud thumping noise. She checked down the alley way, and then started to the edge of town, making sure no one saw her.

10:30pm

The edge of the forest showed no promise for Wynne when she first started up the dirt road to the forest line. She sighed, and started jogging along the edge. She had only made it about three feet, though when she saw a slight opening, showing a once well-worn path. There were signs of recent use, so Wynne started down, checking where she lay each of the feet, and slowly loosing the katanas from their sheaths. She made her way through the forest, and finally came to a large clearing. It looked empty to Wynne, so she pulled the blades from her back, and walked cautiously into the center.

She had been about to leave the clearing and try again at the edge of the forest, certain she had been in the wrong clearing, when Wynne heard steps behind her. The direction of the path. She turned slowly, and her eyes narrowed when she saw what looked like two of Harte's hired thugs. "What do you want." She said, frowning at them. They grinned at each other, and came closer.

"We came for the pick-up." they said, almost grunting. Wynne frowned. She started to panic slightly, and then calmed herself. 'Ryker won't be freed if I'm dead.' She thought, breathing deeply, tightening her grip on the blades, before sliding them into the sheaths on her back. She wished she had her medallion, but she would have to make do with her sais. She knew that is she even moved to her katanas again, shed have a bullet or two or six embedded in her ribs.

"Where's Ryker." she said, and frowned again at the grins on their faces. She slowly opened the belt pocket, hoping to be able to, when the fight started, grab the amulet and throw it away so they wouldn't find it.

"Decided not to join us." said one, just as another one said "Went missin' in this clearing here" The first thug glared at the second and reached out his hand. "The amulet, and you'll live to try and find the young man." he said, frowning and the panic on her face. She reached into the pocket, and, just as she closed her hand around the amulet, she felt something hit her in the head, hard. The last thing she saw as she closed her eyes, slipping into unconsciousness, was a bright light, surrounding her, and the astounded faces of the thugs.

End Prologue


	2. Chapter 1 :Stranger People Were Never

**Standard Disclaimer:**Okay, just so everyone knows, I own nothing except Wynne.. And Ryker, is really just odd mentions. All recognizableKing Arthur characters and/or areas belong to those delightful peopledown in Hollywood. So don't sue me, because my motherwould be right pissed :D

Please remember to review!

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Fallen Angels Of A Darker Time

Stranger People Were Never Known

(Note: UnderlinedEnglish)

Appx. 11:00am

Wynne woke up slowly, her eyes closing tightly against the throbbing echoing through her head. She heard the birds singing in the sun, and a soft breeze flitted over her, bringing with it, instead of the smell of cars and a city, fires and wilderness. She sat up slowly, pressing her hand against the back of her head where a large bump was, and traces of dried blood specked through her black hair, and opened her eyes slowly against the bright sun. She felt her back, where her katanas were still strapped, and across her waist was the belt, her sais still tucked into the material. She frowned. If they had taken her prisoner, they had to be daft to leave her with her weapons. She cracked her neck, grimacing at the loud pop. She tried to remember what had happened the night before, but all she could remember was something hitting her in the back of the head and a bright light before she passed out.

She stood shakily, looking at the clearing around her. Where before it had been empty, it now looked like people lived here. She frowned and walked down the path. No longer overgrown, the path looked like it was used ever day, and numerous times at that. She was almost to the end of the path when she heard voices coming through the forest. There was two voices, male and female, and they were coming closer to her. Wynne ducked into the darkness of the deep forest, crouching down into the undergrowth. She sat silently, her hear beating along with the throbbing in her mind.

She stopping breathing deeply when they walked past her, their voices hushed as they came closer to the edge of the forest. She frowned at their clothing. They were wearing green and brown clothing, the man with a green tunic-like top and brown leggings, and high brown boots. The woman wore a green halter top style shirt, and a brown mini skirt with slits up the sides. They both seemed to blend into the foliage around them. They both had brown hair, long and loose, and wore a strange blue paint on their body. The woman had darker blue swirls on her back and chest, as well as wrapped around her upper arm and on her cheeks. The man had darker blue designs on his fore arms and his cheeks, matching the woman's. They had weapons, primitive looking axes and blades, and each had some type of bow slung over their arm.

Wynne frowned at the pairs strange language. She recognized the words from somewhere, but she couldn't remember where. She waited until the pair passed, and then stood slowly up and moved through the forest towards the edge, hoping to get out and get to the hotel soon. She reached into one of the pockets on her belt and pulled out an aspirin, kept in the belt for small injuries. She popped the cap and tipped two into her palm. She swallowed the pills thickly, and shut her eyes as she came to where the edge of the forest should end. She stepped out into the bright light, squinting her eyes.

There in front of her was a huge wall, towering over her. Wynne's eyes widened. "Nuh uh. No way was that put up in a night, so either I slept for about… Oh, judging by the moss on it… 2 or so years, or I am delusional." Wynne nodded. "That's settled. I am officially delusional." she shook her head at the vision in front of her and began to walk back to the road. She took in the scenery, the forest and the wall, the birds and wild animals strutting around the area. She stumbled only a few times, her body quickly taking care of the weak muscles, reinforced by the aspirin. She made sure not to look to often at the vision of the wall, and felt the warmth of the sun and the cool breeze with her eyes partially closed for the most part.

When she came to the road, she paused. There was a large gate, and it was heavily guarded by none other then men on horses. "Great…" she said shortly, her shoulders slumping as she looked for a way around the guards. She walked to the wall, out of eyesight of the guards, and searched for a path of hand holds. She pulled a pair of climbing gloves out of her belt, and pulled them on before starting up the wall, hand over hand. When she made it to the top, she took a deep breath, pulling herself over the edge of the wall and checking quickly for any observers. She pulled the gloves off, stuffing them back into her belt and pushed her hair back. She pulled her sais out of the belt and started down the stairs to the opposite side of the wall. She walked slowly, peering over the edge to watch for any guards. She stumbled a few times, and, limping down the last few steps and muttering an expansive string of curses, she decided the wall wasn't a delusion.

"Hurts to damn much to be a delusion." she said, glaring and rubbing her back. Then, seeing the road she came to clear, she started to the smoke rising in the distance. "Newcastle-On-Tyne, here I come." She said, starting to run, wincing at the sharp pain at each step.

Appx. 12:00pm.

Wynne knew something unexplainable was happening. She was walking to along the road when she heard the "battle" cries start up, followed by the sounds of swords clashing and men shouting. She pulled out her katanas, and started toward the sounds of fighting. There was a bunch of men on horses and in armor, and more of those blue-painted people. She stepped out into the clearing where the battle was, and was almost instantly attacked by a crowd of blue men. She glared and killed them swiftly, watching the armored men out of the corner of her eyes. She didn't know what was happening, but she was damn sure gunna find out.

One of the men acknowledged her, then seemed to ignore her, but she took it as a sign she wouldn't be killed by them. Instead she would be attacked by the blue men, so she turned her attention to them, killing as many as she could, her katanas swinging swiftly, striking often, and dismembering men with one stroke. She closed her eyes as a spray of blood hit her in the face, and, quickly wiping it off, she turned, searching for an opponent. Finding none, she wiped her blades on the dead bodies around her, and walked over to the men. They were standing around, wiping clean their blades on the dead bodies clothes, and sheathing them. They were talking, and Wynne recognized the strange language and could understand it, even though she couldn't speak more then a few words without butchering it hopelessly.

There was a group of the horse riders, about 10, all heavily armed and armored. A man was talking to another, astride a horse. She walked up to hear better, watching each of the men who had been fighting. They were an odd assortment, and Wynne was sure she recognized some of the names being called out. She came into earshot, and began translating the words that were exchanged. From a man who had just dismounted his horse, came a strange word. "Why did the woads attack?" He asked, his face puzzled. Wynne frowned. 'What in hell are woads?' she thought to herself.

"Obviously they were ordered to." a long blonde haired man said offhandedly. Wynne frowned. She was still in Britain, and yet she had no idea where she was. She recognized none of the paths around her, but some of the mountain ranges still appeared to be in the same spots they were last night. She turned back to the conversation, and listened, trying to appear unobtrusive. A large bald man looked over at her, but turned back to another man who he was stitching up.

"He's called Merlin, their leader." one man said from the back of his horse, his dark, curly hair covering his eyes. "A dark magician, some say." he said, grinning in Wynne's direction. Wynne's eyes widened. 'Merlin… Bloody hell… I must be going crazy' she thought, thinking of the other names she had heard. Arthur, Lancelot, Tristan, and Merlin. She shook her head slowly, her gaze flitting from each of the men to the next.

She looked at the obvious leader. "This is some fairy tale, and I'm crazy. There is no way I'm in King Arthur's story. Bloody hell… Then these are the knights of the round table…" She got some strange looks then, and she realized she had been speaking aloud and in English. She looked at each of the men, and they looked away with puzzled glances at their companions. Then she realized the leader, 'Arthur' she thought, was still watching her. He walked slowly over to her, his dark brown hair pushed back from his face, showing blue eyes.

"Lady," he asked, "You called out my name. Why?" he asked, puzzled. Wynne started. Of course. Names are the same in the language they were speaking. "And what do you speak? Do you even understand me?" Wynne nodded, and pointed at herself. Then she pointed to her surrounding, and shook her head. Arthur frowned for a minute. "You do not know where you are?" He asked. Wynne nodded her head. Arthur smiled slightly. "You are in Roman occupied Briton. Here, you are safe." Wynne frowned and shook her head. She knelt on the ground and drew in the loose soil with her finger.

Arthur looked down at the drawing. It was a crude drawing of the island of Britain, and Wynne looked up to him. She pointed at the map and shrugged. "You know you are in Briton?" he asked. Wynne nodded impatiently, and then pointed again at the map. She looked up at him, frustration etched on her face, and gestured to the area around her. Arthur knelt down, and studied the map. He picked up a small twig and drew a small line in the dirt, almost to where the border of Scotland is in present day, stretching from the west end to the east. He spoke, still looking at the map. "This is Hadrian's wall. We are here, just south of it." he said, gesturing slightly at the map. Wynne frowned. He was pointing at the exact same spot as Newcastle-On-Tyne was. She drew another picture in the dirt.

It was a small river, and she put a small stick figure a small distance away from it. She looked up at Arthur, frustrated at not being able to communicate. Arthur nodded. "Yes, Lady, there is a river a small ways north of the wall. Although, I would like to know. If you can understand us, why can't you speak the same?" Wynne shrugged, wrinkling her face slightly. Arthur smiled, and pointed her to one of the knights, the one bald one who had watched her. "That is Dagonet. He will stitch up your side. Then, you will accompany me to Hadrian's Wall." Wynne watched him walk away, and then placed a hand on her side. There was a warm trickle of blood seeping through the open side of her suit, where she had slit while pulling her sai out one day. She sighed.

"Here we go again." she said, grimacing and rocking back to her heels and standing up quickly. She walked over, and stood waiting as Dagonet finished stitching up the knight he was working on, Galahad. She then got his attention, and he looked at her.

"Lady. That was some fighting out there." he said, and Wynne stifled a laugh as his eyes widened when he looked at her outfit. She nodded to show thanks, and then pointed to his needle. "Do you have something I need to stitch?" he asked, frowning. Wynne nodded, pointing to her side. The large man lay her down on the ground and knelt over her, working swiftly. When he finished bandaging the stitches, Wynne sat up. She followed Dagonet to Arthur, and pulled on his sleeve. When he looked down at her, she pointed to her mouth, and then spoke in English.

"Could you teach me how to speak?" she asked, hoping he would understand what she was saying. Dagonet frowned for a second, and then nodded hesitantly. Wynne grinned and nodded happily, before 'hugging' Dagonet. Placing an arm around his waist and squeezing before running to Arthur really didn't count as hugging, in her opinion. "Arthur!" she yelled out. "When are we going to leave?" She called out, laughing as Arthur tried to decipher her words.

Arthur shook his head in puzzlement and turned back to the man he was leading to the horses. They were talking about the woads, and Arthur sent out his scout to search for any more. She paused as the man who had dismounted from the horse spoke. "They do not worry me so much as the Saxons," he said darkly, before mounting his horse again and spurring it away. The man who had spoken beforehand of Merlin spoke again, one eyebrow raised as he looked at Arthur.

"Saxons?" he said darkly, and Arthur paused for a second before ordering the knights to mount and start on the way to Hadrian's Wall. Just before mounting, he noticed Wynne starting to walk beside the mounted knights.

"Lady. You cannot expect to walk all the way there." he said, reining his horse in beside her. Wynne nodded, smiling. She knew she could walk there, she already did once, and had just this morning walked from there, and climbed over it as well. Arthur frowned. "No lady, we are going quite a long way. You must ride with the knights." he said, before spurring his horse forward. Wynne frowned.

He man with dark curly hair reined his horse along beside her. "Lady. Do you have a name?" he asked, an eyebrow raised suggestively. Wynne looked at him and nodded, though saying nothing more. "Will you tell it to me? I like to know my women before they warm my bed." he said, grinning. Wynne frowned and laughed offhandedly, shaking her head dismissively. Lancelot held a hand to his chest. "You wound me lady." he said, faking hurt. "And here I was going to ask you to ride with me." he said grinning a little. Wynne raised an eyebrow and smirked, and moved to another knight. Pulling on his shirtsleeve, she silently asked the stout bald man if she could ride with him. The knight, Bors, smiled and pulled her up behind him on the saddle, settling her in before spurring on the horse again.

"'Ello, lass. Me name's Bors. Wots yer name, if ya don't mind me askin'," he asked looking over his shoulder at her gray eyes. Wynne smiled and shook her head, patting him on his strong back. Bors smiled, and Wynne grinned before speaking.

"My name is Wynne," she said, pointing to herself, since he didn't understand her words. Bors nodded, his hazel eyes, surrounded by laugh lines, searching the area for any enemies. Wynne frowned, something bothering her. Calling a word to her mind, she asked him a simple question. "What woads?" She asked, frowning. Bors looked at her.

"An' here we all thought you was unable to speak wit' us." he muttered. Then he answered. "Woads're the natives 'round 'ere. Gives us knights a right 'ard time, they do, always fightin' us an' such." he said, "Well, Wynne, do ya 'ave any more questions fer me? If ya can ask 'em, tha' is." he added. Wynne shook her head, and settled down for the trip.

2:10 Appx.

Wynne was getting seriously annoyed by the strange looks she was getting from the knights. They kept shooting glances at her when they thought she wasn't looking, well, most of them did. Bors seemed to be perfectly fine just laughing and joking with one knight, Porter. Wynne laughed along with the two knights, pretending not to notice the other's gazes, wishing fervently for the ride to be over. She almost shouted out with joy when the fortress appeared over a hill. Actually, she did. "Oh! Finally!" she yelled, beaming widely. The knight all looked at her then, not even disguising the curiosity in their eyes.

She shrugged and hopped off Bors' horse and began running for the fortress, which still lay a far way ahead. She looked back quickly as she ran and, seeing the knights surprised glances and shouts, ran even faster, nimbly jumping over the fallen logs and jutting boulders that, in her own time, had been pulled up and disposed of. She narrowed her eyes against the cold wind in her eyes, her steps sure and quick. She didn't slow until she was about twelve feet from the gate, the guards at the top yelling down at her in the language the knights used. "Halt! What be thy name, Lady, that you be running outside the walls dressed in those.. Clothes" They spat out the word venomously, and for the first time, Wynne looked down at her attire.

"Well.. They can't think me very ladylike, now can they" She muttered, grinning. She turned and looked over at the approaching knight, standing lazily with her feet spread, her hand planting on her hip impatiently. The knights rode up and reined in their horses, the animals tossing their heads. She looked up at Arthur, squinting to shield out some of the sun that shone down into her eyes. Arthur looked down at her in disbelief.

"Lady, what were you thinking?" he asked, his eyes wide. Wynne smiled and laughed, shaking her head slightly. Arthur closed his eyes and then motioned to the guards on top of the wall. "Open the gates, quickly. She's with us." He said , almost reluctantly, spurring his horse forward when it opened, sending a quick look back at Wynne and shaking his head. Wynne laughed slightly, her shoulders shaking slightly before she sauntered in after him.

Wynne looked around and was set to go exploring the large fort before she felt a large hand on her shoulder. She looked up, startled to see a tall blonde haired man, his hair short, brushing his cheek bones. His blue eyes narrowed as he studied her. Wynne shrugged his hand off and he caught her arm. "Arthur says you are to be accompanied to your rooms. There, he wishes for you, him, and Lancelot to talk of your purposes of for being in these areas, armed nonetheless." Wynne rolled her eyes and took a firm grip on his arm. His eye tightened as her fingers pressed on a pressure point, and his fingers went limp. She removed his hand and gestured for him to lead the way.

"After you, you pushy bastard." She said, a smile on her face. The man eyed her strangely, as if trying to understand. After a few seconds, he nodded, judging her comment one of agreement. Wynne smiled once more and followed her new guide through the fort.

* * *

So, There we have my first chapter. I kind of cut it short, but there it is nonetheless. I don't really like it, and, in fact, have started cussing at it quite often, but there it is all the same.

Please R&R

Thanks much, B


	3. Chapter 2 : New Arrivals

Well, I must say, that as much as I wish I could claim Galahad and steal him away to my lair, I am forces to admit that I have no ownership on his part. Now Harte and Ryker on the other hand... Oh, and Wynne

I want to thank all those who took time to review, and those who put it on alert, and those who put it on their favorites. I enjoy the praise I get from it, be it imagined of real ;)

To my reviews!

the.dead.addict Prologue - Actually, I read one that was similar afterI had posted the first chapter.. I kicked myself after.. took me so long to think of it, too... Chapter 1 - There's your update, though I'm not sure why you like it XD

softly descending Thanks for the tip. English is now italisised.

I am working on the next update, but who know when it will be done.

* * *

Fallen Angels Of A Darker Time

New Arrivals

(Note: ItalicsEnglish)

2:30 pm.

The room really was quite plain, stone floors, walls, and roof. It was sparsely furnished, a small wardrobe against one wall, a bed against another, a fireplace beside the wardrobe, and a table and chair at the end of the bed. She had already examined the door, the window, and the woodworking on the wardrobe and bed, and had been so kindly instructed to stay put. She snorted, and shook her head, then turned back to her examination.

Wynne looked up from studying the floor as a knock sounded on her door, echoing through the silent room. "_Come in_." She called out without thinking, and looked up as Arthur entered. She nodded in greeting, and gestured to the chair. He was followed by Lancelot, and Wynne raised an eyebrow. They had both removed their armor, now in only their shirts and pants. They wore long boots, reaching up to the middle of their calves. Lancelot looked smug, smirking brightly as he gazed around the room. He seemed to take the absence of her katanas in, and glanced over to where they stood propped against the wardrobe. Wynne felt it unnecessary to point out that she still wore her sais, and stood, crossing her arms and spacing her legs apart.

Arthur took in her pose calmly and nodded once. "You need not fear, lady. We will not harm you unless you give us reason." He said, his voice close to monotonous. Arthur sat in the chair she had motioned to, and she resumed her position on the side of the bed. Lancelot looked around and seemed to sigh dejectedly, then walked to the wall, leaning against it and taking out a dagger to clean beneath his nails. Wynne watched him until she felt that he could do no harm, at least none that she couldn't foresee, and turned her gaze to Arthur. He nodded once and then looked over at the katanas, as if judging them. "You are quite the weapon master, Lady. Wynne, Bors was saying, I believe?" He waiting until Wynne's nod of confirmation, and then continued.

"We were all quite impressed when Dagonet told us of your prowess with your blades there." Wynne nodded impatiently. "And you can obviously understand us, if you cannot converse with more that a minimum of words." Wynne nodded again and looked at her feet, surprised to see them swinging above the floor. She glared at them and stopped, turning back to Arthur. He continued as if he had not seen her facial expression change. "My men and I believe that you could be a good instructor, teaching the woman combat for times of ambush and war." He paused as if waiting for her answer.

At least, that was how Wynne saw it. She raised an eyebrow in disgust. "No." She said simply, digging through the limited dictionary in her mind. "No woman. Boys." She challenged, looking directly at Lancelot as she said it, as if calling him that, instead of a man. He glared at her and then turned back to Arthur, switching his position from his back against the wall to only one arm, holding himself up with that arm.

"Arthur, as I said, she must be ill in the mind." Wynne stood angrily and strode over her finger pointed out. She hit him squarely in a pressure point under his shoulder, and smiled at the surprise on his face as his whole arm, the one supporting him, collapsed under him, causing him to fall right into the wall. Arthur stood quickly but Lancelot waved him away. Wynne crossed her arms.

"No" She said, pointing her head. Arthur's eye widened and he looked at Lancelot. He seemed to splutter slightly, and then he stood straighter, looking at Wynne quickly.

"How did she do that?" He asked, "She is so small, and yet you just dropped." He continued, his voice showing the disbelief. Lancelot glared at Wynne, his dark eyes smoldering, and then burst out in a big grin. Wynne's jaw dropped and she stared right back. 'Bloody hell, this man is thick.' she thought, surprise showing all over her face. She hurriedly clamped her jaw shut and muttered 'Hmpf' before walking back to her bed. Lancelot turned to Arthur and stood straight, flexing his arm again.

"I don't know how she did it, but she seemed to paralyze my arm. It just lost all movement, all strength." He said, praise written over his face. "Even if she just teaches us how to better our tavern fighting, I'd go learn from her." Wynne rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, a string of dark curses, in the language the men spoke. She had always been better at remembering how to speak curses than anything else.

Arthur seemed to blush, and Wynne realized that the language she had been using would very likely be used only in close confidences, not even in taverns unless by a drunk. She shrugged and reached into the pouch at her waist, her utility belt, and was surprised to feel Ryker's dagger. She did not remember packing it on the night she had been to meet Harte, but she couldn't really remember much at all of the night. She frowned and pulled it out, admiring the curves of the deadly blade, the ebony black metal shining in the light that seeped from the window. She used her fingers to trace the carving in the metal and sighed. She looked up and saw Arthur staring at the blade appraisingly.

"Black Will…" She muttered, and tucked it into her belt next to her sai. She reached back in and her fingers enclosed upon the necklace that Ryker had given her. She let go, leaving it in the pouch, and felt her fingers brush against hard metal. She frowned and closed her fingers around the item and pulled it out. Arthur and Lancelot had dismissed her, going back to discussing her teaching the men. Wynne looked up at them and then opened her hand. There, nestled into the curve of her palm, sat the medallion. She looked up at Arthur quickly and tucked it back into her pouch and was just looking back up when Arthur turned around, nodding, to speak with her again.

"Well, lady, how about a deal. I will ask Dagonet to teach you our language, and in exchange, you will teach anyone who asks, women or men both, your fighting skills. You will train with my men, and will keep this room, free of charge, in my men's quarters." He looked at her and frowned, then nodded, holding out his hand. "How does that sound?" He asked, his brown eyes watching her, causing her almost to flinch under that unwavering gaze. She thought it over, and shrugged. She had had worse deals in her time, ones she had not had the option to refuse. She reached out her hand and shook, her grip tightening just before loosening. This not only gave her a reason to keep up with her practice, it also supplied her with a place to sleep, food to eat, and gave her a chance to find herself some information.

She stood and ushered the two out, pointing to the bed as she realized her fatigue. They left quickly, and Wynne pulled off her suit and boots slowly, crawling into bed reluctantly. She had barely closed her eyes when she was fast asleep, her eyes fluttering softly, her breath slowing into a rhythmic exchange, in and out, as she slipped into dreams.

6:00pm

A beeping went off by Wynne head, and she reached out to swat at the alarm clock. She lay there, her arm swinging, meeting nothing but air, her brows furrowed as she slept. She opened her eyes groggily and groaned as she remembered what happened the day before. The beeping was her watch, securely clasped around her wrist. She frowned at the item, sure that she had not had it the night before. "_What the hell… God, I need a drink…_" She murmured, swinging her feet over the edge of the bed, and wincing as her side strained, the stitches paining her. She cursed again and frowned, then stood up and dressed in the black suit that had been folded in the belt pouch. "_Tight black pants, tight shirt… God..." _She muttered as she thought of the knights, a few who had been giving her lascivious glances the day before. Sure, the suit was good for when she needed unencumbered movements, lightweight and fitting tightly so it didn't tangle in any gadgets she happened to be using. However, it didn't do so well for crowded surroundings.

She dressed, leaving the top buttons on the shirt undone so it was somewhat loose. She tied her boots tightly, and tucked in Ryker's dagger. She buckled the belt along her waist and tucked in the sai, then stood contemplating her katanas. Finally she sighed and shook her head, then headed to the door. She stopped and looked at the table, though, and the amulet sitting on top of it. Her locket lay beside it, the diamond and ruby group shining nearly as brightly as the diamonds embedded in the amulets metal. She stared at it and then clasped her locket around her neck before heading out the door, the amulet tucked securely into her belt.

The tavern wasn't far from her room, and was already filled with bawdy comments being thrown between men, a crowd milling about, about three tavern maids serving all. She glanced at one redhead and saw her smile, a warm smile, and then looked around. She noted the knights all at one corner, and then headed to an empty table in the opposite direction. Her hair was up in twin buns, hair falling carelessly where it was to short to be securely in place. The redheaded tavern maid walked over slowly and eyed Wynne. "'Ello, lass. You be Wynne, am I right?" She asked offhandedly as she poured a mug of wine for Wynne.

She frowned at the woman and sat straighter, looking around. The maid laughed. "Oh, bless you, lass. Bors told me it was your name, is all." She smiled at Wynne kindly. "But I must tell you, you won't remain hidden long in this place. Everybody knows all others, and all knows everyone else's business." She said, smiling once more before turning and walking away. Wynne sighed and slumped into her seat.

"_Oh, hell…" _She murmured, propping her fist up, her elbow planted onto the rough table. Her forehead planted onto the fist, eyes closed, she tapped her fingers on the table, muttering under her breath "_when I open my eyes, I will be asleep in my bed_," over and over again. She didn't hear the footsteps approaching her table, and only when someone sat at the table did she open her eyes, reaching for the sai at her waist. She relaxed her muscles when she saw only Dagonet, the giant of a man staring at her. He nodded at Wynne and then pointed to her mug.

"Mug. Say it." he said shortly. Wynne frowned, her gray eyes searching the room for anyone close enough to listen. She hesitantly forced out the word, stumbling over each syllable, each letter sound. Dagonet frowned. "Say it again." He said. Wynne frowned and repeated it, frowning as she tried to arrange the sounds correctly.

Dagonet didn't concede, instead instructing her to repeat words throughout the night. He kept her there until he finally needed to sleep, and led her to her room. "Lady Wynne, goodnight." He said, dipping his head slightly before heading off down the hall.

Wynne entered her room and lay upon the bed, frowning and repeating the words over and over again. She finally desisted when her watch said 12:30, sitting up on her bed. She went over and grabbed her katanas, then headed out to the courtyard. She unsheathed the weapons and began exercises, flowing from one stance into the other in what would seem to any viewers an exquisite dance.

"_The River Undercuts The Bank_," she said under her breath as she moved into the stance, followed by "_Arc Of The Moon_," and "_Tower Of Morning_." She ignored the sounds coming from the tavern, and concentrated on the stances, closing her eyes and feeling out the familiar exercises. The Grapevine Twines slid into Parting The Silk, which swiftly changed into Lightning of Three Prongs. She opened her eyes at the sound of footsteps, followed by someone clearing their throat. Wynne glanced around the field and sighed when she saw the tall form that watched her.

"Not bad, Lady." He said, his brown eyes twinkling even in the little light there was. Wynne rolled her eyes and turned away from the arrogant being that was Lancelot. "You seem to talk a lot when you do that." He said, watching her, following her movements as she practiced her stances. "Why?" He asked. Wynne stopped and looked at him.

"Name," She said. She then slipped into a starting stance. "Snake." She said, saying the only word she knew of Snake Slithering Through. She followed it with another, muttering the name of that as well. Lancelot nodded.

"I see, Lady. And, I must say, I wouldn't mind learning from you. If only to watch you as you demonstrate." He muttered, smirking at her. Wynne glared at him, and then sheathed her katanas, drawing out her sai. She began juggling them, then balanced them on her index fingers, her back to Lancelot. He moved around her to her front and grabbed one of the sai, studying it. He frowned as he looked at Wynne, then back to what must have been a strange weapon. Wynne glared and snatched the weapon back from the man.

"Don't." She said, returning to the center of the field, then beginning with her stances for those weapons. Even more graceful than her exercises with the katanas, she concentrated, ignoring Lancelot as she spun, ducked invisible attacks, and jumped. She stopped, crouched, one leg extended, the other tucked underneath her, and heard Lancelot's retreating steps as he left. She smiled and then started once more.

Two months later.

9:30 pm.

Wynne sighed and dismounted from the foul beast called a horse. The knights demanded that she was instructed in riding, for the day that she would accompany them upon their missions. She still insisted she could accompany them on foot, and they just laughed. Wynne frowned at the ground in front of her as she walked slowly to the tavern. Her butt hurt and she felt like killing someone, although she didn't care who it was.

She turned into the tavern and waved at the knights, in their usual spots, Galahad and Gawain playing their throwing game, Lancelot womanizing and gambling, Bors and Dagonet talking over their numerous mugs of alcohol. Geraint and the one called only Talon laughing as they discussed, likely, Wynne's unfortunately experiences called riding training. She glared. She would just have to increase their training so they felt pain as she did when she first started training. Shows what you get when you try to keep things simple. She was better at talking, although she still hesitated on some words, her mouth not forming them as well as she might have had she been speaking it frequently since she learned it.

She stopped by Vanora, and looked darkly at the two that supervised her lessons. "Geraint and Talon are making my life hell." She said, looking back at Vanora. The redheaded tavern maid, who had first greeted her at the tavern, was Bors' lover, and the mother to his five children. The only woman around here that Wynne could stand, as well. She wasn't one of the simpering wenches that frequented Lancelot's bed, and not one of the women who avoided her like the plague because she wore pants and shirts, specially made.

Vanora smiled at her pityingly, patting her on the shoulder. "Child, they only wish for you to learn it before their next trip, 'tis all. No gutting them." She added, teasing. Wynne laughed and walked to Galahad and Gawain, just as Galahad was about to throw his dagger. Wynne pulled out her sai behind him and threw it idly, landing in the center of the chair they used as a target. Galahad turned to look at her, frowning. Wynne laughed.

"Oh, pretty Galahad. You will get wrinkles." She said tapping him in the center of his forehead. Gawain burst out laughing, and Galahad spluttered, trying to get her back. Wynne laughed again, went and got her sai, and turned away, slapping Geraint on the head as she passed. An indignant 'Hey!' came up behind her, and the sound of chairs squeaking across the ground, then a small. 'Oh, it's her.' and guffaws as he sat again. Wynne chuckled and walked across the room.

She went to her table, surprised to see a man sitting at it, facing the opposite direction. "Pardon, sir." She said. "You are in my table." She said, frowning as the words came out wrong. The man turned to her and raised an eyebrow, smirking. Dark, straight black hair fell over his eyes, and the dark blue that stared at her irked Wynne. Very much like Harte… Wynne's eyes widened and she spoke, her voice halting as she spoke, English. "_You. How did you get here_." She said, glaring and fishing her sai out of her belt.

The man glanced around once, then gestured to a chair. "_Take a seat, baby_." He said, smirking. Ah, the ever present smirk. Wynne glared and stood, her feet spread apart and her sai just under her hands at her waist.

"_I asked you how you got here_." She said shortly, gritting her teeth together. The man laughed and sat back in the seat, placing his feet upon the table. His eyelashes covered his eyes as he stared at her, making Wynne forget everything that had happened the last two months, remembering a time in a small outdoor café not to long before. "_Are you going to answer me? Or are you a little to unprotected here_." She asked, sneering. He shook his head.

"_Oh no. I just missed you, babe._" He said. "_As to how I got here.. I have no idea_." He shrugged and Wynne stopped herself from grinding her teeth, and pulled out her sai.

"_Around here, weapons are accepted as the norm. I am accepted, and any I gut are ignored, thrown out of the town, and I am commemorated as a hero_." She said, twirling her sai around her hands, seemingly completely absorbed in the movements. "_I advise you to leave me alone._" She stopped in the middle of a spin, her hands held at an uncomfortable angle. "_Or else I may have to follow up on my threat and sheathe this in your throat._" She turned on her heel and walked out of the tavern, fuming.

"_Of course he would show up here.._" she muttered, swearing slightly as she made her way to the stables.

* * *

Ooo.. Who is 'he'? Virtual cookie for any who can remember.. Any kind. GrinsAnyways, like I said, I am working on it, but I am also working on my HP story. Hope you don't mind the waits in between the chapters!

Anyways, as always, R&R

'Til next time, B.


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